I’m at ease. Not because I concur with unexpected hiatuses from those who have not the slightest of ideas on what this race is about but because I have learnt to cope with life, as I journey on towards better days, for dreams are brighter days in sight. Inexplicable a country this is, obnoxious the times and serendipity they yearn. But I was driving at so high a speed towards the finish line, absorbing the pressure of time fleeting and the treads of my tyres wearing out, screeching at every turn and almost falling off the track but kept going, for in sight was not just the finish line but also the crown. Seeing the finish line at a stone’s throw away, only for the inexperienced referee to do away with it and still expect us/me, to keep racing with nothing in sight. Not a filling station nor a garage, now that the line and crown are no longer determinate. What a drive🗑. I/we live to fight another day, regardless
When duty calls, servants can only do so much but subrogate their roles. This is a hiatus from the rigours of law school and the meticulous curriculum therein. Again, to you fervent and amazing readers, I make this appeal; if your siblings or any other relative or acquaintance is seeking to join campus and have fun, law and medicine aren’t the playgrounds. Take that from me as pro bono legal advice, before I begin practicing and bill you for such 😂😂. The foregoing is a “simplified” explanation of the “dryspell” that had ruled this blog, but here I am to irrigate the furrow field. So, to the gist of today. Have you ever loved? Were you jealous in your love? Probably you were clingy, or didn’t show it? Was/is your partner a free soul? In terms of opening up and letting you know that they met some guy and the guy asked them out for lunch or something of the sort or vice versa? You ever had sleepless nights construing what happens if such hits your blossoming relationship? Well, they say that if our partners are able-minded citizens, then we won’t have to spend nights staring at the ceiling and pondering in the confines of insecurity, whether or not the bond is becoming stronger or otherwise. Nothing plants a smile on my face, in this context, as having such partners who stop at nothing to open up. Well, that’s a whole new level of trust and confidence, at least to me, but to some it could be detrimental, cumbersome, uneasy, compelling, infuriating and a blow…What do you think?
I must say, and concurrently register my remorse to my fervent and incessant readers, that I’ve taken quite a long hiatus before brandishing you with the taste of the pudding, for you, my good people, are amazing eaters. Details of the same can only be offered in nuggets, for hardly do they form a part of this…so, to not keep you in the dark, I’ve had all-nighter episodes, putting my academics together. Quite a snippet right there…join the dots. At an age so tender, brooding at the feet of my mum; the source of love I’m sure will never be humanly withdrawn, in physical absence or emotional presence, I never foresaw a time when I would physically say goodbye…You know Celine Dion and her “goodbye is the saddest word I’ve ever known, goodbye the last time I will hold you near, someday you’ll say these words and I will cry, it will break my heart, to hear you say goodbye…” But again, not pronouncing myself or throwing in a cold towel to admissions, foreseeing death, just as we foresee success; for whatever you define it as, should be an equally brave vision. Lest ye declare me pessimistic in my realistic world, lest ye, in your myopia brandish me nostalgic, obnoxious and oblivious of your feelings. I tell you for a fact, if you love someone and/or something that much, you will have to, on a couple of occasions, imagine their withdrawal from your life…then what? Mum’s love isn’t physically here. Then what next? Her voice will no longer be with me. Then what next? I won’t have someone to so much confide in. Then what next? No back up plan, if the bond was that strong…my skewed school of thought. A power generator will never light a bulb as bright as does electricity…and in its bid to fit in, it furnishes you with so much noise and smoke. Ponder. Away from my mum and to this other side of love…today looks so lovely and love is all I feel like talking about and the antiques, thereof😍. So, Mwakazi Johnstone says, among a long list of things, “it hurts most to love someone and not let them know what you feel towards them.” In all right, he has not left any stone untouched. That statement is as clear as it ought to be. Do I concur or dissent? I’ll tell you when I’ll know. But to the nitty gritty of the same; from the ladies I’ve interacted with, attention is a gird about their head, loins, and all over. So, much as they may admire you and want to conjure up something, bro, you have to go round…and that’s what makes them who they are. That yes, they may reject you, but did you express what you felt towards her first? Because if you didn’t, then rejection was predetermined. On the downside, rejection is a building block, at least for concession and respect for people’s opinions. Eschew flinching and shoot your shot. Then work on being better. Confession; I have had a taste of what this latter love entails by throwing in my bait and of course, fishing that specific person, but much as it is a bygone, pertinent lessons from the same have guided me through and till the day I will settle again for that unbeknownst someone, know this; with every break up, you will give away a part of you. With every lasting relationship, you will either build, or destroy your frame…in calculating your generosity in the former, overlook not your self-worth in the latter…live, laugh, love…the words of/on my doormat.
And when in the calm and lone of my room I sit, after a long day of classes, a few talks here and there, marvelling at how people carry themselves out, smiling down the path to the apartment and up the staircase, reminiscing the good, colloquial and bad times, I like life. You see, life is that moment you feel so stressed that you failed that unit, that you didn’t get that grade you so much expected. Life is that moment you are so happy that that guy/lady noticed how much you’re into them and measured up. Life is that moment you leave the office so upbeat that all you want to do is get home and have some repose. Life is that moment when all you’ve worked so hard for bears fruits. Life is that moment you lose a dear and loved close person. Life is that moment when you have to start over again and stand up for yourself. This time is considered, by many, De Minimis Non Curat Rex, frivolous and ubiquitous, in a nutshell. We get so involved in the toils of the day that time for self is a dream…how then about time for and with the Maker? Far-fetched, I’d say. We get so engrossed in what lies ahead of us that we forget we need us… We need a clear conscience of ourselves. The wee hours of the night have and always will be my best of times. To sit me down, reevaluate me, rebuke me, chasten me and point me to not just my Creator but also the things that comprise my life, and in that, stand to be greatly valued by and of me. That, to me, is living one day at a time. Toil, yes. Grind, yes. Sweat, yes. But in all these, forget not to find time for self, because you’ll need you, at the end of the day…
On average, a Kenyan university student, public university for that matter, spends at most four hours a day online, and mostly on WhatsApp. This, when home. Save for school where they/we, spend hours on end on various internet-supported platforms courtesy of free WIFI. Using WhatsApp only, for the aforesaid four hours could take an average of seventy megabytes, bought at twenty shillings, given that most of the university students fall under the age of twenty six years old. That is merely seventy megabytes to check out a few statuses, talk to a few friends and, the seventy messages, talk to a couple of friends. Fast forward to online classes. A lecture in the Kenyan universities lasts three hours…the same, of course, is expected of you as a student while taking online classes. But still, there comes a catch. You have to join the session. Meaning stream the lecturer and, depending on your lecturers, turn in your cameras. This, in reality, is a drop in the ocean given your meagre seventy safaricom bundles. Only enough to introduce yourself and leave the session. Welcome back to yet another pain in the flesh. Online examinations. It will be equivocal and mercurial of our course instructors to expect us to post the grades, good for that matter, expected of us in an online examination after undertaking online classes…survey this; the duties expected of the campus student who hails from the countryside. Tending to younger siblings, herding cows, cleaning the house and compound, just to mention but a few. Distractions aplenty. That notwithstanding, barely a week after completion of such exams, registration of new units commences and within a record period of two weeks after the same, a new academic year. I’m fazed by the speed and recklessness with which higher education is being taken for granted. It’s with utmost awe, not just as an affected member but also an enthusiast in my career and calling, who needs the serenity and practicality with which studies should be disseminated, that I write this particular piece. The yoke is too heavy. The ass is overwhelmed. But the merchandise, says the master, must be safely delivered. Oh, wow!…#vilified
I never lived earlier enough to experience the live of my maternal grandparents. I can neither blame it on fate nor God…their time had come. On the other hand, my paternal grandparents lived to see me not just grow but have the sense to not only discern between right and wrong, but also keep secrets and make many other grown up decisions.
I will be philanthropic enough to give you a sneak peek of the wealth backgrounds of either of my grandparents. In these times, my maternal grandparents, Oedipus syndrome aside, were better placed, materially, than my paternal grandparents.
In my early years of growth, with a fair interaction of village life on occasion, I learnt to distinguish between utter poverty and riches. Prove me wrong, if most villagers don’t thrive on needs, while city dwellers while away in wants; fancy cars, high end hotels, night outs, clubbing, expensive drinks, just to mention but a few, worth watering the mouths of the destitute villagers. In comparison, all they; the former, need for the day is some porridge in the morning, a soft meal, or none for lunch, and something tangible enough for supper.
On the health ends, the poor tend to be safe of some high-end infections, or so, regarded, while their rich equals are susceptible to the infections thereof. Times are challenging, world over, yes, but due to lifestyle, or is it that God well knows that the poor’s means are mean enough to guarantee them considerable healthcare, quite a negligible number of the down-to-earth get infected with, say COVID-19, cancer, diabetes just to mention but a few.
Narrowing down to specifically these Corona virus times, the government has criminalised, in its assumed efforts of driving fear into the populace, the very disease. Take a look at the burials. The victimization thereof. For instance, why would a whole casket be sprayed with “disinfectants” ? I’m further baffled by the fact that deaths due to HIV/AIDS related infections have, all of a sudden, been wiped out, malaria, tuberculosis and other natural causes of death. Why? Because lately, the government is too fast on its feet to declare deaths as COVID-19 related…
And, in the same spirit, push the common folk to testing for the virus, at a fee good enough to not only pay their rents but also buy them a meal or two. In my perspective, it is absolutely high time insanity and cronyism are recalled. They have served to destabilise families and render young generations hopeless and destitute…nonetheless, I, as always, stand corrected. #vilified
Introverted I was born,
And reserved I have grown.
But the light of the day I saw,
And sure enough, I chose to grow.
I couldn’t hold my virginity forever,
No one could better salvage it’s savour.
But my yearning to share grew wild,
And I wanted to show it to the world.
I set out on a new leap of faith, again.
With grit I sought to have people gain.
She whom I found couldn’t quell it all,
For too pure and girded the call.
Pen and paper, I came across…
First, as friends so prose.
Second they two became quite a gang
Satisfaction was guaranteed with a bang.
No specific venue or time.
In the mat we stripped and spared no dime.
I grew thirsty by the day,
And the quencher, always a call away.
No misappropriated fare,
Just the ultimate care.
If I could, I could share the very feeling,
But I hope with your eyes, you’re eating.
This particular partner I’m jealously guarding.
And closer to me, every day and night, holding.
How sweet the experience…🤤📝
Once again, I gave my heart out,
To traverse the world and thought of loving.
In my full regalia of optimism,
I was determined to beat pessimism.
And love, for my heart wean,
As someone’s daughter I win.
The beautiful one, for handsome me, I met,
And out to the murky world of love we set.
Not in search of a frisson,
But in the warmth of our bosoms freeze on.
I thanked my lucky star, for the lad.
Kind, the angel spoke to my heart, not head.
I saw, in her brown calm eyes, an us.
Not just for her thick thighs and/or ass.
But for what we foresaw in the future.
We promised; us, to work to nurture.
And behind us pessimism trash,
Before us optimism stash.
Just as death calls in the wee hours,
Our love was, equally, destined for worse.
Myopic I am, but hypermertropic, too.
I saw the signs, and smelt the rat, hhmm!
Ship had hit an iceberg, destabilizing us.
The us, aforementioned. What a curse!
My fights and unmatched efforts,
Firm but sterile and futile bullets.
I journeyed on, my armour well in place,
But stopped to think, what a pace.
With every breakup, I, wearily, lost a piece.
And, day by day, I forgot peace.
Maybe this is the time to reconcile.
Not just with my heart but vile.
Sit myself down for time, as could’ve mum.
Keenly listen and nod, all the while mum.
This world of love…the waters so silent,
But deep run and are quite negligent.
I promised never to be generous again,
But look at me now…back with pain.
Zero gains you to show,
But miserable like a shell by the shore.
If thoughts radiated, then my pillow crazy.
If sheets worked, then mine lazy, hazy.
Heavy laden with tears and despondency
They need aeration for conservancy.
Rest easy my beloved one. Soon enough,
A companion you’ll have. A worthy staff.
In Newton’s laws of motion, the third law, if I can quote, “for every action, there exists an equal and opposite reaction.” Now Karma, as in a German saying, “Karma hat kein Verfallsdatum” has no expiry date. In law, too, in whichever way through whatever means, the law has to take its course and perpetrators have, in one way, or the other, pay for their wrongs. That said, there exists friction between the tortfeasor and the tortfesee. And, more often than not,the bond of contention is not in making up for one’s wrongs, but the duration before which the same can and will be done. More often than not, the wronged feel so holier than the wrongdoers and, out of the blues, shin their vision to their possible wrongdoings. As a matter of fact, this has stirred the calm waters of peace, distorted unity and broken families. Oh yes, we human beings, and Kenyans, have the tendency of being dodgy and sneaky. But there has to be a clear line between the ordinary Kenyan and that person you’re entangled with. Infer. Use their pasts to decide…that does not mean you become lenient, but rather fit in their shoes and figure out how you can come in handy for a brother. Sit for a minute and ponder. What if no one trusted you? What if all humanity lived as islands? “Keep yours I keep mine” what if the rough experiences we had during our naivety never made us careful but changed our attitudes to damned negativity? What kind of siblings, offspring and society will we bring up in days to come? Sit ye and draw the line, so clear, between being careful and being untrustworthy…#nomanisanisland
Time as a thief; the greatest thief there has ever been…
Stealing our pasts when we in our future are keen,
Thereafter the details, then the moments, which now, memories have become…
And what is left? Echoes, distant echoes of who we were, what we had and who we have, over time, become.
Time as an illusion; the hands always tick…
Still or in motion, once every day, the stationary and the one in motion, will concur.
The rains will subside, the sun kiss the opposite horizon, kids come home from school and the streets be deserted.
But why this inanimate yet very lively dictator? She runs the activities of human life, but over the ages hasn’t done herself any good; even a second to the twenty four hours.
Be it selfless, inability, complacency or just virtue, is not upon me to check into the powers of such a dictator, even 9f presidents, kings and queens alike.
Rise up ruler and exercise your discretion if you aren’t. The power vested upon you is unchecked…no one knows when though art ultra vires and/or not.
And no one, either, really invests their time, you, in checking your powers. For clearly you’ll say, again, that theirs on earth is depleted in checking on you. So how art thou not an illusion??
The paragraph was long,
But a quick review, wrong.
They didn’t deserve words so strong;
Their hearts were weak, and of virtue wrung.
The result? A soft touch of blue…
My clan, tribe and countrymen, specifically those who are brought up in the countryside will perfectly identify with this. Not limited, though, to the ones raised in the city, depending on their agility to acquire knowledge and skills. So, there’s this wooden tricycle that my father bequeathed once a while when he paid us a visit; once a while due to the nature of his work and indeed, that was such a gift to behold. In the calm of the afternoon, beneath our huge mango tree, in the shade we sat; I, as the errand and my father, the man of the day. The tools of service; a hammer, pieces of wood-wet for that matter, nails and despot wheels of old, out-of-service wheelbarrow. Depending on the expertise a dad would take an hour or so in designing the homemade tricycle. And you as the recipient, yours was to paying keen attention whether or not you had a knack for handy work. Nail on the wood and hammer on the head, after an hour’s dedication to make the son feel the father’s presence bore fruit. A tricycle. The exuberance that rented the evening went overboard to neighbouring villages, with cousins and age mates in tow to have a test drive…that was the joy so insurmountable. Joy that memories and language cannot master enough. But well, a tinge shared goes a long way in “revisiting” the memories that not even drinks can bring back. I must as well look back at the genuine joy our forefathers have had to celebrate. First, the independence of our country, then the declaration of the same as a republic and state with definite territories and later on the repealing of Section 2A of the 1969 constitution giving way to a multi party system in politics, then came the new constitution in 2010, devolved government which gave rise to counties and a lot that is encapsulated in the new constitution, all for the intended good of the common Mwananchi. But that joy, just like my tricycle, seems to be losing it’s value as time goes by. The procedure for designing the tricycle, by the way, has never been outlined in a book. It’s passed by observation. So if yours breaks down every very often, then you know how much attention your father pays…but the structure of our government and country is solidly captured in our constitution. A key book and manual that we all, indiscriminately deserve. Allow me say again, deserve. And why deserve? what’s regarded as deserved? A walk down my English lessons back in the days. A deserved token or service is rightfully granted due to the foregoing input and industry by the individual. So changing the model of the tricycle, much as it is adventurous enough, but there has to be caution in riding it thereafter. Lest you forget the wisdom of the ancients and fall to and for your own mischief. The separation of powers envisaged in the constitution and legal studies has lost its weight over time, and instead, power has been concentrated back to the executive and the independence of the three arms of government been virtualized. This is gross and tantamount, but raise you a finger and you sure will be “revisited” doubt it, ask your Honourable Chief Justice David Kenani Maraga. He knows just too well what power vests in revisiting. That yes, The Constitutional stipulations, whereby everyone regardless of social status is subservient to the law, do not apply to the head of state and government and those allied to him. That the ultimate power to interpret the constitution, which is the role of the highest court in the land, the supreme court, can be “revisited” and the decorum and dignity the courts of justice bear be thrown out of the window, just depending on “who you know.” It goes without saying, that the judiciary has been portrayed as an incapacitated arm of government, which cannot run itself…it’s high time the york is broken and issues made known. That without the executive extending an olive branch to appoint judges or allocate sufficient funds for running the executive, it will remain, among the elite, just a subset of the executive. A kettle to small to hold big fish to account. The wheels have been relocated and now my tricycle has two wheels on its head and one on the hind…I pray that it balances and I sail through well. That I don’t go down the books if history as one reckless son, grandson and great grandson who could not tame his adventure and ended up changing what wisdom had been inherently employed in the making of my tricycle. And now that I’m the sole owner, to whomever I bequeath it, I pray I don’t water down the expertise of my forefathers, lest I be “revisited.” So help me God.
Well, I guess and I can attest to the fact that law is a noble calling and just like all or most careers, there will be criticisms from those who either would have rather clenched the course but did not, or just naysayers out to outwit noble men and women in society, unbowed by the few madmen that mark every market. That said, let’s get to what one Professor Harman Manyora says of lawyers and/or, the legal profession; “you just need common sense and a little English to be a lawyer” this on Jeff Koinange Live, Citizen Television on the 10th of June 2020. That said and done, a trip down the vivid description of the distinguished professor. Much as my interest is not to contemn or disparage the guidelines offered by the World Health Organisation at large in the fight against COVID-19 and specifically the wearing of masks. So, a sneak peek into details; is the amount of oxygen breathed in when one has their mask on and without? How much CO2 is retained in either case? What are the pros and cons of remaining locked in your house, videlicet a good family stroll in the calm of the evening, breathing fresh air and the evening sunset gracing the occasion? Let’s not get to the manual labourers whose modus Vivendi is hand-to-mouth; that tout, that truck driver, that cart-puller, and are now compelled to stay locked in the discomfort of their truly humble abodes…would you rather they die behind their hard acquired masks or put that one crucial meal on the table??this, now, is actually common sense and a little English.
The world is so full of pain. Pain among the youth;unemployment, pain between lovers;being cheated on, pain in parents;losing their kids to immorality, pain among church leaders; leading half-baked Christians, pain in the system; producing mediocre graduates and seeking expatriates…pain looms all over. The greatest pains, though, are harboured in one’s soul. And that’s the root of love. Truest love streams from the soul…yet, a soul overcome by pain, can hardly provide such, lest its love half-life is infinite. It will, therefore, cleanse the wrath therein. The pain is even more detrimental, upon assuming everlasting love, only to be marred by temporary views…in regards to this, most have ended up disregarding love and, worse still, taking their lives. This runs deep as a sign of cowardice, but now that language and a straight mind provides believable explanation for all actions below the sun…the surest explanation, still is from experience. But now that for the ones who have taken their lives it’s futile, the brave ones who have, in the contrary, sought to cling onto hope can give a snippet of what it feels like to strike a poisoned arrow on a fresh and bleeding wound of love…right at the core of the heart. It is capable of taking life, but for sanity’s sake; faith and hope kept aside, they hold fast to that crucial thing, that no one knows what tomorrow holds…so they would rather rest than quit…👌
None of us ever envisaged a country marred by the now talk of the day, COVID-19 pandemic. But the wave fast spread as wildfire, slowly but surely shutting down a couple of activities…talk of schools, religious gatherings, political rallies (this to an extent because the bearers still masquerade as people of good will, effecting changes that have taken us by some shock, and holding meetings in their residences). Well, in a recent zoom meeting, where the Hon. Justice Lenaola was the guest speaker, he noted with keen interest how apocalyptic this pandemic had actually become. A sneak preview of what the judicial system really looks like…before the pandemic took the better part of the country, there was a huge backlog of more than three thousand cases pending hearing in the Milimani law courts. Now, just so you know, there transpires so much before a hearing date is fixed during filing of suits. So the likelihood of there being more cases in the registry is a question for later days. Depending on the urgency of the matter at hand, yet a relative dissemination of judgement, because come to think of it, everyone not just wants but deserves, as anticipates Article 47 of the Constitution of Kenya, expeditious judicial services…Sitting to imagine the number of Kenyans crying foul to have their cases fixed for hearings, you’ll blow the rooftops. So back to the efficiency of the judiciary. Not speaking for the institution in particular but for the service delivery at large, the pandemic hit it below the belt. Webinar among other virtual court processes have become the order of the day. But look keenly on the punctuality of the counsels from either side, the magistrate or judge, the plaintiff and defendant and then now shift to their internet connectivity. Just in a normal case scenario, it is rather obvious that we really are crawling in our efforts to fully deliver justice via such methods. Needless to say, that could as well turn virtual. Now, that’s just a snippet of what’s happening in the judiciary. The education system is yet another that is knocking a greater percentage of learners out of the ring by default. On grounds of connectivity and online classes. But you know the assumption that carries the day? The classes are on-going. What a fallacy that runs the show. A greater majority of Kenyas have inadequate electricity supply, no access to television sets, leave alone smartphones and/or laptops, but are expected to be perfectly at par with their counterparts who live in the leafy suburbs of the city and know no blackouts or lack of WIFI. That, in itself, is insanely insensitive…but time and tide waiting for no man, the cry of the less fortunate remains musical to the ears of the have-it-alls who carry on their days in perfect order…so, until when will that village boy and/or girl get the chance to move with their city counterparts whose parents roll big in heavy German machines? In my point of view, there’s really a whole lot that needs to be done before we can claim, leave alone achieving, total online classes for the populace. But as always is, baby steps, too, amount to change and positivity is the best angle from which life can be looked at. As such, the trajectory, much as it is not at the pace we would want to see it, is on the right path…or so I think. What’s your take?
Always have an imagination. And besides that, work to realize the imagination.
Then possess a vision. Keep it alive and let it always point you to where you want to be and what you want to achieve.
Surround yourself with people who see the best in you. For such will correct you to being the ideal you.
Always remember this; that the people who love you will always be there to help you when you’re in trouble.
Good lawyers worry about facts. Great lawyers worry about their opponents
Naive and soft. The most toxic of qualities a lawyer can possess.
We lawyers all have an instinct to win…sometimes we know what that means, sometimes not.
True and best lawyer; tough and fair. It’s not about caring, it’s about winning. What my client wants is your client not to get what they want. Dating a client, in the real world, is a violation of ethics.
You go to them, you’re weak, they come to you, you’re strong.
Not here for your absolution. Here for your redemption.
Sometimes the good guys have to do bad things to make the bad guys pay.
The true administration of justice is the firmest pillar of good governance.
Revenge is best served cold.
A yes is so much better when it starts as a no. To honour the law is to disseminate it with no feelings.
Winners wanna win more and more.
We do what we need to do.
You are the best because you do whatever it takes to win.
Nothing unites a divided family like attacks from the outside.
Accuse the other side of what you’re guilty of. The wheels of justice turn slowly.
Nobody fights harder than one looking for payback.
Great leadership is when leaders lead to the greatness of those below them, and to their sides, delegating duties to all indiscriminately.
Rules aren’t right or wrong; they are a callous set, draped in “morality and customs” admissible to constituents to quell their aggression and get them on track.
It is perfectly human not to behold some of these blessings that before us, like sleeping giants, lie. In the words of Chris Martin, “you only miss the sun when it starts to snow.” Deep thought…you and I have been callous enough to embrace myopia and, more often than not, to render that which others long to have useless. The enthusiasm, dedication and humility with which we sought some of these things, slowly but surely wanes upon acquisition. And we have, as a result, defaced, devalued and even disowned that which we so much values. Yes, to err is human but to be swayed is a choice. A bad one. In the moniker, “YOLO” we have exonerated ourselves of value for others and “emancipated” ourselves of tradition. Hardly do we stop to behold the foundations of our success, leave alone our being. We have so much been swept in the melee of clout-finding that emotions are more theoretical than real…well, in this case I must say I’m personally grateful for having a share of both worlds; having that which I so much valued but no sooner had I set off to appreciate it than it was fast withdrawn…my biological mother. So dynamic is this current age that almost all youths, trickling down to ages unimaginable, have exes…a perfect depiction of how temporary things are. It still fazes me how the theoretical thickness of blood can be compared to that of water…where was oil??anyway, let’s assume it’s due to the importance of the two in a perfectly poor man’s world…but behold your mother. Alive or deceased…much as maybe we weren’t/aren’t all in good books with these persons, they dearly make the better part of us, their counterparts, our fathers, notwithstanding. Language is shy of appreciating their input in our lives. For we can say endless words thereof. The bond fostered in the nine months they carried us in their wombs, the pain of bearing us and the perseverance of raising us, naive and innocent as we were is only abstract, but runs deep beyond physical creativity. Immense. They make our worlds brighter. Theu never give up on us. They knew what ached us when we could not utter a word or make a gesture. And as such, we are here today. It pains being out of reach of one’s mother for a while because they are out working to make our lives comfortable, but it eats the soul when one buries such a treasure never to see them for as long as they exist. No pain, matches the crescendo of this…I bet. So besides the fact that it is World Mothers’ Day, we need to celebrate every single day we have them around. Reach out to yours and thank them for who they are…for because they were, you are. Here’s to our mothers, the seldom celebrated heroines🥂you deserve my/our all, mum.
Time is an illusion, argues one school of thought, no, it’s the determinant of all that out of a human being comes. But think you now. Of what value is the adage “age comes with wisdom” if all one did/does is spend their time unaccounted for, live because they aren’t dead yet and, in their world and time, industry and determination, experience and aggression are as foreign as honesty amongst your leaders. Sure enough, you will not be bequeathed wisdom on a silver platter when your head in grey is covered, or shiny rendered…think you now and haste not to choose.
You and I have grown in a family, we’ve shared a class with people, we’ve had teachers and workmates. All shouldn’t be well always, does not necessarily mean you source for trouble to meet this hallmark of normalcy. Or escape the converse…variety has continued being the sole spice of life. As such, regardless of our footing with these people with whom we interact almost daily, we will, somewhat, get attached. The light moments we share, the stern faces we exchange, the heated arguments in a bid to prove your point against theirs and vice versa, the warm hugs, the walks, talks, lunches, just to name but a few. The conundrum of all this? As time goes by, people grow apart. And as this happens, others grow closer…the family moves apart, and in the long run another is formed…at that wedding, or customary agreement to settle dowry, or, as the Westerners call it, “bribe price”, when you hold that party for a workmate moving on to a different firm, the last talk from a lecturer who’s not taking your come next Semester, lowering the casket of a loved one, saying bye to a longterm friend as they go abroad for studies, settling with one of your friends as your girlfriend/boyfriend and cutting others off…that’s when the dawn of reality, your reasoning strikes. And hard or soft as your heart could be, this is when the attachment bit of life, like an on-coming train, hits you head-on. And you realize that after all, the human in you lives on. Reminiscent the moments we can only virtually experience, putting up our only option. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the moment we will learn to live one day at a time, enjoy every second with the persons we have in our lives, and live to fight another day…for as Gilbert Macht connotes, “nothing is new under the sun” so you and I aren’t exempted from such attachments…learn to feel, but in your learning, don’t give up reason for emotion, for then they’ll assume you’re weak and use it against you. Create that bond. But still, learn, therefore, to live before you leave…
Yes, slow they could turn and actually they do. Justice is Juxtaposition enough. And justice for all is not specific enough. But haste ye not to exonerate its effect in society and the efforts thereof, before you seek it diligently; to and with your last nerve. Seek and you shall find. Sit and wait, and it shall be theoretical still. For he that seeks finds…stipulates the good book…
Most of us are in a hypnosis of disempowerment. We are living unconsciously because we haven’t died, anyway. We are drifting through the ecstatic and lone paths paths of life just for the sake. We hardly break to reconcile with self that we are the ones creating our tomorrow. It no longer fazes us. What an ornate prejudice to life and the giver. We long threw in the cold towel and lived a purported “one day at a time.” We gave a back sit to the neighbor’s principle; Donoghue v Stevenson. Well, look at us now…desolate despondent beings…the future we tossed like a marionette in our hay days now got us a shanty. A ramshackle. We are less energetic, less powerful in thought, less convincing in looks and sadly, less time on our plate to better ourselves. But yes, actually yes, even with that short time we can overrule the decision that our recklessness had established…we can overturn a precedent. That notwithstanding, look at the process. Evaluate the consequences. Check out the nature of the precedence. Can shows ability but doesn’t guarantee success. So think you well. All the waters in the ocean cannot sink a ship until it gets in…be so mean in guarding the avenues of your soul, for from it flows the issues of life. In the foregoing, refer to GIGA; garbage in garbage out. I rest my case.
Yesterday’s ecstasy birthed sound sleep for the blissful night there was. And for tomorrow we planned to take it a notch higher. We put in resources, we set the table and the we asked God/Allah and that supreme being to guard and see us safely through the night. The memories, the thoughts, the courage, the yearn to be better than we were looms. And who, in their right mind, would be complacent and unwilling to be better? What inspires mediocrity? Why would you know what is right, what you deserve and where your capability lies, but still cling unto mediocrity when you’ve got it in you? What’s, besides the involuntary woes and the break, thereof, is your breath for? Why would you live averagely and leave? The power to be what you dream of lies solely in you. Your thoughts, your steps, your courage, your flexibility and your ability to think that you can change the world and actually do change it. As was with Steve Jobs, “those who think they are crazy enough to change the world, are, indeed, the ones who do.” What makes you feel less crazy? Why would you rather mingle with those who really stopped dreaming or gave off that power?? Stand up and stand out…take the banner and lead the way. Coz you’ve got it in you…take that leap of faith, stop clinging unto mediocrity. Try and make your trials count. Until you can no longer learn, keep winning. You’ve learnt enough, put it into use. You and I need that space in society…be callous and you be warmly handed over the leftovers. Be, conversely, aggressive and determined and you’ll serve yourself what suits your toil…oil your cranial muscles and go out to the world…#yougotitinyou
The loneliness that strikes on the evening of burying a loved parent. The vacuum that takes over the house. When mourners have to go tend to their families. And the orphans desperately and despondently left in the hands of a few relatives. Later on in the hands of just God. When weeping becomes personal. And pain so real. When the pinch of losing a loved one steps out of the virtual shoe and becomes real. And hell and misery, like hungry uncaged lions roam. Devouring the little hopes the orphans hang unto. And darkness slowly but surely spreads its blanket over the vicinity… Crickets chip in to make the moment more lonely. Then showers. And the matrimonial house, save for the lantern light, is filled with darkness. Visions blurred. The future cut. God questioned. Clothes drenched in constantly flowing tears. And it all boils down to self. So what really is life? Why does it have to be marked with strife? Why does God not salvage us of some situations? And that’s when, indeed, His presence is most needed. The showers become heavier, water flows all over, the wreaths on the grave are swept away, and a peep through the window is as good as one into the future. Dark. Boring. Hopeless. Doomed. That’s when the weight of a fallen loved one is felt. But too late to revive it. That’s when reality hits. But too naked to dress up and meet it. That’s when we wish we had lived when we could, but too dead to resurrect…and make life more yielding with the late, than it was. Late. Life and strife.
Bundled up for just being a youth in dreadlocks, spending a night, even a weekend behind bars because one cannot buy their way out for a crime they have been wrongly implicated for. On the cold floors, dark rooms. A son, a daughter, a nephew, a nice. Where art sanity and humanity? Or the tinges thereof? Why rob the poor of their poor parent/guardian’s sweat, in the name of correction? Now, unless well understood, which I so highly believe has no stand in such “law enforcers” world, which case I’ll delve into, correction is a measure taken after a wrong has been committed. Or one has opted to negate the laid down guidelines and churn the wrong path. Back the the christened enforcers. A public servant has to be qualified for that capacity. Be of reasonable mind and repute. Not haphazardly inflict pain on innocent citizen in a claim of dissemination of duty. That’s wrong. Even worse, why draft free primary school dropouts, and underline free, Kenya Certificate of Secondary Education failures and those moneyed into so skilled a field? This, by virtue of service to all and sundry, is an evil so unanimous that the helpless callous and bemused collaborator, the common mwananchi, will forever ponder upon in vain. A flashback is necessary in this. Why do most people want their own at the helm of politics, President? Development in their backyard. Now, I’m not pouring out my thoughts and shedding light on this because I’m privileged, but because it pains to be suppressed left right and centre and have neither parent no guardian to turn to. And for those who do, so poor are the guardians and parents that finding a conceived way through is a jerk in the knee, a pain in the neck and an insult to injury. This dates back to our founding fathers. Ethnicity. A clear gathered information of the second president of the republic of Kenya, His excellency Daniel Toroitich Arap Moi. How could he, for his twenty-four year reign help his people? Education by then was for the privileged few, lest they could all be in government. So, easy, draft them all into the defence forces and police force. Qualifications? Can run, has teeth, and is strong. Education bore no regard. It’s decorum was for public officers and the cadre thereof overrated. With the free primary and, now, secondary education, money matters. Foolish as you can be, present a good sum of money and a job will be forthcoming. So incompetence Mark’s such corridors. Injustice echoes so loudly and improper dissemination of duty is the order of the day. What a perfect man-eat man society this is. The one that Francis Imbuga in Betrayal in the City talks of. This, actually, is utmost betrayal. Where one comes in, takes his/her share, tries to blind his/her people and when their time comes to vacate office, a parastatal is well reserved for them. They have to die serving. It never ceases to amaze me how young a fifty nine year old is and how old a fourty eight year old is. The former to continue in his tenure in public service and shout loudest that the youths are jobless. The latter is a retired president, a prudent and highly regarded statesman of outstanding repute. This is the epitome of my people perishing for lack of knowledge, enshrined in the good book, the Bible. For far so long we have cried foul of uncivilization, but when the real deal, civilisation is at our door step, we blatantly ignore it and embrace the vice for a mere hundred shillings. Wake up and live your dream. Leave that comfort zone and, if impotent, fight for the future of your sibling(s) offspring. It’s that time that this has been ringing in our ears and now the noise is too much. In my small way, I’m acting towards what I believe in. Are you? Or is the constitution yet another novel firmly tucked in in your shelves, dusty, rusty and the best theoretical books of all time? No mind is to be excited or soul agitated to read it anymore. But all to be ignited to live the standards it dictates. #yougotitinyou
A pen, a meal, a piece of cloth, a snack, a car, the list is long. We have received some of these things in our life time. That’s common. The distinction comes in when we compare the aftermath. Very rarely do we appreciate that which we have. Pegging the thought and prayer; God help us to, as warmly, embrace that we longed for, once we get it, just as much as we laboured to get it. Teach us to be thankful to you and to those that bring this to effect. The precepts of prudence radiate in us to be kind. To not be lost in the joy of success, forgetting the efforts that preceded the success. To be humbled and truly so by our achievements, motivated by our acquisitions and encouraged by our abilities.
The pain of losing,
The lessons of not winning.
The story behind consistency,
The push for excellence.
The motivation to do one’s best,
And make their best the best.
The spirit of a winner,
The imagination of a loser.
The power thereof,
The definition of an ideal leader.
Of self and multitude.
And what is more, the making of a man from a boy and a lady from a girl.
We think, and yes we do. We air our views, thereof, but maybe, just maybe, due to uncertainty, we air the wrong views. We so fast are to judge, before getting the due and in depth information on what we inform. The hardest and most embarrassing moment comes when we implicate the wrong persons or documents and can not or hardly can, exculpate ourselves. So then we use the knowledge we have of the books so warmly embraced, constitution, Bible and/or Quran, among other books so highly regarded, in the wrong ways to justify our even worse judgements. So halt, think and shun rumours. They diminish self, lower decorum and devour honesty. But, still, by and large,uphold and exhaust the freedom of speech and expression.
Emotion and reason. The tug of war for superiority in most if not all sane human beings. A controversy in every breath of all beings’ lives. More often than not, we find ourselves at the crossroads. We get locked in the dilemma and lotched in the persuasion to choose. Both paths seem wow, by virtue of decision. They, depending on situation, embrace myopia on/with one arm and hypermatropia the other. Nothing determines your heart’s take. Far be it from most humans that we want to be jacks of all trade. So we so much want the embrace on either to be equally tight. Wishful thinking. The tug of war wages and rages when we begin weighing the options thereof. I don’t want to lose one for choosing another. The greedy human nature. Consequently, or worse still, I don’t want to lose both, for the inability to choose one of the two. So which way my heart? Which way desire? Which way future? Should I let emotion overcome reason? Or should reason overcome emotion? But wait…isn’t life just about emotions? Isn’t emotionless an emotion? Humans are emotional beings. Yes. Yes, you and I are. Were it not so, then the non compos mentis personalities, too, could decipher this. Grab your constitution and peruse through article 29(d) and feel free. You shouldn’t be mentally tortured, because, ibidem, article 33 takes care of your freedoms of expression. Throw the emotions in the air, even though they say emotion should not overcome reason..so throw reason to the same air. Then let the two marry. Hit the bond of contention right at the eve of the couple’s first night. Get to the inseparable knot tied thereof. The marriage of reason and emotion. The intercourse, thereof, the noblest of kids. Decision. The noble child.
A counsel, mandated to defend, be in the shoe of their client and, if they don’t win the suit, trim his/her ego and provide the client with a solution to, at least not feel so beaten. Goes beyond the bar set by the bar, and misappropriates the confidentiality that between the two, legally exists. The results, a baby, a case against the counsel. The ruins of ethics. So whom does the buck stop with? The counsel knows the words that in the judicial ethics are. The lay client is clueless, despite having consented to the outside court affair. Interestingly, the advocate takes himself as an advocate for self and, by default, has a fool for a client. He further seeks injunction, and seeks that DNA tests be fast run to ascertain that the 5-year old kid isn’t his. Woe. The result show that the kid is, to be exact, 99.999% his. I guess the 0.001% left is for the sake of parallax error. To err is human. But come on counsel, you’re suing the lady for defamation, after devouring her, she now has your kid. Your defenses, you had unprotected sex but didn’t intend to impregnate her. Hell must have long broken lose. The learned think like the otherwise. But to an extent where you use the law that you’ve long embraced to favour you in your wrongs. Evading alimony because during your few minutes of pleasure you chose myopia to reason, and at the expense of the latter gave emotion the priority. All reason comes down crumbling when the sitting judge rules in favour of the rogue counsel. Grants injunction. Pushes the mentioning to two months later. The mother is working her back off to support the kid. The case, former, was lost. Helpless, the woman is compelled to tow the line…so what’s the rule of law? How come the advocate got so much into the client’s shoe? Why did the authorities not jump in to legally combat the incompetence? Subject to debate. But asked, the counsel deserves a hot sitting with the Law Society of Kenya.
That we all need each other at some point in our lives, never ceases to amaze me. I need my lecturers in class to teach and guide me to success. They need me to have that job. I need my parents/guardians to support and nurture me. They need me to gladden their hearts and give them a reason to live for; this varies with parents and guardians. By and large, humans are never 100% independent, were it so, God’s supremacy could be long suppressed and His existence compromised. Food for thought. Law, the mirror of society and one aspect God so recognizes, knows no transaction without anything in return. Otherwise, restitution and unjust enrichment could marry and compromise quasi contract…so inasmuch as service providers owe is a duty of care, to so small an extent depending on your social status, the disparity is fast growing. The rift is more felt. The crumbling of the economy doesn’t, by any means, call for infliction of pain on the already red, wet, wide open wound. So high the rates to access services, no taking into account the high, middle and low class in society, and, God forbid for the latter because of the humbling experiences they’ve been through, but really, they too are service providers to the high and mighty. Without them, the president could be doing his laundry, cleaning his fleet and even driving himself. If the service providers who, in our society claim to be the high and mighty live in a world where flexibility is unheard, then, just for a minute, disguise self and make a decoy of your services. Reach out for that old mama in the village, ailing by herself, struggling to make a call to her only son who works as a watchman in the city to send her atleast two hundred shillings to acquire medicine for her ailment. This call on an equally needy neighbour’s phone. Why should she call at four shillings per minute,like that rich/wealthy C.E.O who resides at the leafy suburbs of the city? Why not leverage?? Or better still, enable the high and mighty get wants and make the needs of the low and needy worth their meagre earnings?? It’s high time reason reasserted and manifested itself. In this path, yes I will follow the law and seek to enrich self through my career and profession, but for as long as all this has so hard come, the day my heart will stop is when I’ll give the aspect of humanity a back seat and so tightly and warmly embrace self enrichment at the expense of the former. #vilified
We find it way easy to believe others when they’re succeeding…the levels of trust we bestow upon them at such a time is overwhelming. But how often do we trust the same people when they fail, when they dwindle a little bit, do we even remember their past successes??that’s us. Humans. Myopic, just as sinful, by nature and from birth. Crack the york and behold the beauty in others. #itgetsbetter💪
We live, some in reality some otherwise. But we live. Awaiting the dawn of what we can only, for a selected few, hope for and trust in, but the vast majority, call luck or accident. That’s the human perspective of seeing. Few of us prefer being partisan, and most sit on the fence. For either, there are consequences. But myopia dictates sitting on the fence. Woe unto us who’d rather embrace myopia and disregard the critical ability of discernment.
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